They Don't Know About Us
by FictionAddict9
Summary: His manager. Her Spider-Man. Let the world say what they want, because they don't know Peter and MJ.
1. Chapter 1

Peter Parker took a sip from his cup of tea, regrouping from another battle of wits with his longtime friend and career companion.

"But why bother with the mess? You have to wonder how they chose such corporal punishment back then."

"Didn't you study this in your history class? It's your national affairs."

Of course, Michelle Jones would turn the tide in her favor by questioning his accountability and memory skills. Classic MJ.

"I don't think schools make a habit of studying the guillotine."

"Maybe if you picked up a book now and then."

"Shut your mouth, I read."

"Comic books," she countered.

He scoffed, and admitted temporary defeat.

"Speaking of reading. The Fury script?" she inquired, taking a sip of her coffee.

He mirrored her, with the innocence of a five year old that stole another cookie.

She waited it out with a single raised eyebrow.

"I didn't actually get around to reading it."

"You think it wise to ghost Nick Fury."

"I'm not ghosting him. You have me on a very tight schedule."

"Did you decide you weren't going to work next year, and not tell me?"

"I would never," he scoffed playfully.

Then with a shrug of his shoulders, "Probably couldn't pull it off anyways."

She nodded, "Remember that."

Seeing the time on the clock over the entrance door, MJ pulled out her wallet and waved their waitress over. The female bounded up to Peter's side, as if he was the one to summon her.

"Outro pote de chá, Senhor Parker?"

He shook his head.

"No, obrigado. Mais um," he picked up his half eaten croissant, "por favor?"

"Claro," she replied, a little pep in her step as she walked back behind the counter.

MJ shook her head as Peter sipped the rest of his drink, continuously oblivious to the damage he caused.

"Stop charming the waitress, you're setting me up for a bigger tip."

"She was nice."

"Decent."

"I'm sure you can remember what living on minimum wage was like."

"Were we ever that lucky?"

The waitress brought over Peter' croissant, with the bill, when MJ put fifty dollars worth of currency on the table.

"Ficar com o troco," MJ insisted.

Since she first took their orders, the waitress smiled at MJ and looked ready to cry.

"Obrigado, bela dama."

She pocketed the dollar, winked at Peter, before clearing their plates.

MJ ignored the soft smile on Peter's face

"Ready to go, loser?"

"If we must," he agreed, unfolding his pair of sunglasses and donned his coverage with half-heartedness.

They stood from their seats, and just before exiting, MJ reached over to fix the collar of his jacket. Peter made a show of rolling his eyes, but she didn't care. Holding the door open for him, Peter stepped out into the blinding storm of camera lights and abrupt questions.

"Peter, is it true that you're moving back to New York?"

"Onde está a tua namorada, Liz?"

"I love you, Peter Parker!"

Peter acknowledged the love-struck cry with a smile and a wave in the general direction. MJ ushered him into the van's back row, before stepping into the space in front of the mob.

"Senora Jones, qual é a sua relação com Peter Parker?"

The small glint in her eye was enough to make Peter smirk. He saw it coming before they could.

She beamed a gorgeous smile at them, before raising her middle finger up into frame. She held it for a good moment, before climbing into the van herself and telling the driver they could leave.

Classic MJ.


	2. Chapter 2

To celebrate the news of more Spider-Man: Far From Home scenes, I wrote an experimental chapter.

A reader asked if I could translate some dialogue from the last chapter so:

_"Another pot of tea, Mr. Parker?"_

_"No thank you. But another...please?"_

_"Of course."_

_"Keep the change."_

_"Thank you, Miss."_

_"Where is your girlfriend, Liz?"_

_"Miss Jones, what is your relationship with Peter Parker?"_

Now, I hope you enjoy and leave a review to help me decide if I want to flush this story out more. Thank you.

* * *

MJ glanced from the words in her book to her watch. From her seat behind the interviewer, she caught Peter's gaze and opened up her hand, then closed it, then opened it again, indicating there was five minutes left of his interview. She could see relief trickle into his expression, though she doubt the overzealous woman would notice or decipher its meaning. MJ went back to the words in her book.

"How did you feel filming the last scenes you'll ever do with your character's mentor, Iron Man, played by Tony Stark? Were there tears? Difficult lines to get through?"

MJ's lips pulled a bit at the ends in appreciation. Genuinely good question compared to the last few she's heard.

"Filming with Tony is always a blast," Peter started, "but there was a sense of melancholy on set. These characters shared the screen for three films now, and I learned so much from watching Tony, who took a chance in recruiting me for his franchise. So while I'm happy that he was able to conclude this part of his saga, I'll miss working with him on these films."

MJ held a thumb up.

"And your co-star, Liz, will you miss working with her too?" the woman asked next.

And just when MJ thought they would end on a good note.

She marked her page, maintaining her charade of reading the words in front of her, but zoned into the conversation with more attentiveness.

"It will be a change not to see her as often as I do. She's got great things ahead of her, I can't wait to see and support her future endeavors."

"Cinematic, as well as romantic?"

Peter laughed, taking a moment to brush his hair back.

"She knows she's got a life-long friend."

"Are there any collaborations or plans to work together, once you're back home?"

"My manager has quite the schedule for me once I get home, so it'll be exciting."

And there was the signal. A practiced answer clued MJ in that Peter was done with this line of questioning. She put her book down, ready to go in for the kill.

"Do you plan to branch out of the action genre, perhaps try a romance this time around?"

Peter made a show of answering when MJ stated, "And that's all the time he has. Thank you for having us today."

The reporter made a quiet, discontent sound but reached for the recorder set on the coffee table between her and Peter. Then, stood up to offer him a handshake.

"Thank you for talking with me today."

"My pleasure," Peter assured her.

"Let me get the door for you," MJ rushed her.

Peter waved as the reporter smiled with more force than comfortable at MJ, before leaving the room. MJ closed the door behind her and turned, seeing Peter stretch in his chair. The hem of his shirt riding up the tiniest bit to reveal some skin, the sight causing MJ to swallow instinctively.

"Last one?" he asked.

"One more," she answered.

Peter tilted his head, too similar to that of a puppy. MJ guessed he probably would beg for a walk soon, when a knock at the door caught their attention. Though Peter maintained his professionalism as she opened the door for their next interviewer.

"Come in," she greeted their guest.

The boy probably wasn't older than thirteen as he took in the sight of MJ, and blushed at her welcoming expression.

"Hi. I'm Aurelio," the young man addressed her, "from the show, TeamSpiderMan."

He held up his press badge, as if she wouldn't believe him. Unknown to him, she personally printed and mailed it herself.

"Hi Aurelio. I'm Michelle and this is Peter Parker," she introduced, gesturing to the celebrity who caused the teenager's eyes to bug out of their sockets.

"Hi Aurelio," Peter greeted him.

"H-Hi-hi," stammered the young interviewer.

"First of all, I want to say that we love your videos on Youtube. They're insightful," Peter complimented the still blushing boy.

"Need any help?" MJ offered.

"Um, I have just my camera. It's what I use for everything."

"Simple. We appreciate that," MJ responded, gesturing to take the equipment.

Aurelio blinked before passing it to her. She brought forward a tripod and set up the camera to bring Aurelio and Peter into focus.

"Forgive my rudeness, please have a seat," cajoled Peter.

"Thank you."

"Now I'm at your mercy, Aurelio, so go easy on me."

That made Aurelio smile, as he dug out a set of flashcards from his pocket. He glanced at MJ, who gave a thumbs-up to the two in front of the camera.

"Olá! This is Aurelio. I'm here with Peter Parker, who plays the amazing Spider-Man!"

"Hello, South America!" cried Peter, waving to the camera.

"Peter, I have some questions, if you don't mind."

"Not at all!"

"What is your favorite part of being an actor?"

Unlike the previous interviews, MJ gave Aurelio's session her complete attention.

She saw he had an impressive viewers count and couldn't wait to see just how well this video would do after he posted it. She and Peter did love his channel: a web show highlighting the heroic deeds of Spider-Man that translated to younger audiences outside the US. It was by luck that Peter even recognized Aurelio's accent and she sent out a press invite to Aurelio's address.

His allotted time went by quickly,

"Is it true that you cannot sing?"

Peter interlocked his fingers before setting them to rest on top of his head.

"That is true. I cannot sing to save my life."

"Is it true there's a video of your singing?"

MJ's eyebrow rose behind the camera, which hid the end of her mouth curving up in amusement.

"Ah, the video," Peter trailed off, "I have yet to see it, actually. Have you?"

"No."

"You'll have to tell me what you think."

MJ raised an open hand behind the camera, to indicate his last five minutes.

"I guess that's it then, thank you for answering my questions," concluded Aurelio.

"Thank you for having me on your show! We can't wait to watch it when it goes live," Peter exclaimed.

"Thanks for joining me, TeamSpiderMan, and be sure to watch the new Iron Man film coming soon."

Both Aurelio and Peter waved to the camera, giving it a minute before MJ stopped the recording.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your toothbrush?"

"Still need for tonight."

"Your passport?"

"In your bag."

"Your script."

"I wrote a script?" he joked.

Peter watched MJ roll her eyes. A majority of her reactions lacked actual… action, but she indulged him a small show of predictability now and then. Just for him though, he noted with satisfaction.

"I promise you that I'm set and ready to leave at the ungodly hour of five am."

"Just checking."

"And are you all packed?"

No response.

"Maybe I should check your-"

"Shut up."

With his body sprawled across the clean covers of his hotel bed, he watched her flip a page of her book. Riveted in its contents, between quizzing Peter. She sat with her back against the headboard, knees drawn up, and her hip just a few centimeters from Peter's fingers.

She looked comfortable, relaxed in a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt.

His thoughts of staying in with her were interrupted by the obnoxious knock at his door. He prepared himself for what lay behind it, and when he opened the door, the imposing vision of beauty didn't disappoint.

"Hello, lover mine," greeted Liz.

She made a show of turning them around before reaching over to kiss Peter's cheek, and he returned the gesture. Instinctively, his eyes briefly shot over her shoulder, only to see MJ still into her book.

Peter shrugged. Liz shrugged in return and turned around to face MJ.

"Michelle."

"Liz."

Liz faced Peter again, exasperation on her pouty glossed lips.

"Peter, they're going to take pictures. Go fix your hair."

He raised his eyebrow at the mischievous tone, but trudged to his bathroom with Liz in tow. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he watched Liz pull the door but incidentally left it open just a crack, where he could see MJ still reading.

"One of these days, she'll have a fit. A woman like her can only take so much PDA."

"That's assuming she cares. She set us up, remember?"

"She was being a good publicist. And wasn't she seeing someone at the time?"

Peter scowled at that. Causing Liz to laugh in his face. Causing MJ's eyes to dart toward them. He made a mental note.

"For as smart as she is, how has she not figured it out yet?"

"I can keep a secret."

"You're terrible at keeping secrets."

"You'd be surprised," he mumbled, his mind suddenly miles away or days away.

"Thank you for my croissant by the way."

"You're welcome."

"Did she say anything when you dropped it off?"

He shook his head. Liz stretched her hand out to smooth his hair down again, but he ducked out from her reach.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, leaning against the sink.

Peter smiled, beginning to gesture with his hands to accompany his strategizing.

"We're going to Paris next, and we'll spend the whole day together in the city."

Liz clarified, "You and her."

He nodded.

"Then, after the press event and the after party, we'll-"

"You and I," Liz interjected.

"Yes, you and I, will head back to the hotel, so I can take her to the Eiffel Tower."

"Such a romantic."

"Her favorite spot on the tour."

"Really? Never considered her a romantic."

"Well," Peter hesitated.

Liz's face dropped into a blank expression.

"Let me guess, a conspiracy theory?"

He shrugged. Liz shook her head, turning around to inspect her own appearance.

"You've got it bad. What happens after?"

"I'm going to tell her how I feel, and hopefully she tells me that she feels the same way."

"Don't forget the last thing."

"What?" he panicked.

"Don't get caught."

Peter made a face at her in the mirror.

"Well, how do you plan to lose the mob of people following you in the most romantic city in the world?"

At that, Peter made a goofy face. He didn't know how, but if he succeeded in his plan, his next date would be with the stunning woman on his bed just a few feet away. The reality that he wouldn't be with her tonight sunk in and he looked to Liz with his best puppy-dog eyes.

"You can quit the theatrics, Parker. You'll have time with your conspiracy queen tomorrow. Until then, you're mine," she said the last bit loud enough as she pulled him by the hand out the bathroom.

Peter picked up his sunglasses and hung them from the neckline of his shirt. When they crossed the room to his door, he caught sight of MJ holding her phone to her ear.

Before he could stop himself, he asked her, "Who's that?"

"May," she answered, with nonchalance that could be patented by the one and only Michelle Jones.

His eyes widened in joy, when Liz tugged forcefully at his hand.

"Bye Michelle! Tell May we say hi!"

"Bye-"

The door closed before he could say her name.


	4. Chapter 4

"Was that Peter?" May asked, her confusion sounding through the earpiece.

MJ shoved her book to the other pillow and stretched her legs out from under her.

"Yeah, he was just going out the door."

"Where's he going?"

"To a concert."

"With Liz?"

"You heard her."

"I'm sure the paparazzi will eat that right up."

"She will be sure to inform them on her snapchat."

May laughed, unapologetically.

"Is someone jealous?"

"Of Liz's promotional skills? Hardly."

"My mistake. Your level of tact is about the same. I'm sure Tony Stark would be proud to see this photo of you flipping the bird."

MJ closed her eyes, as if searching for the part of her brain that thought the gesture was a good idea. She didn't regret it, and she wouldn't take it back. Still.

"What are you doing looking at online photos?"

"Keeping up with you guys. You know a picture is worth-"

"An absurd amount as fabricated evidence."

"Better updates than the stuff you two post yourselves. Was that his shoe?"

MJ groaned, that particular idea of letting the dweeb handle his own social media an actual regret on her part.

"Hey! Better than the last-"

"Don't say it!" MJ cried.

May laughed again and let the sentence hang for a bit before asking, "How is he?"

"He's... Peter," MJ stated quietly, proudly.

"He was looking forward to this trip," added May.

"He acts like it's his last hurrah. Though, he's oddly blasé about London."

"London is a beautiful city."

An odd deflection on May's part, that left MJ feeling like the only one in the dark.

"While he was home, did you see him reading any new material?"

"On the rare day I actually got to see him? No, I didn't."

"He's being stubborn about the Fury script."

"Peter? Stubborn?"

MJ smiled at the exaggerated sarcasm.

"You forget, I've known this man since he came home with a black eye, claiming he fell on the playground."

"That's the best he could do?"

"He was six. I doubt he wanted to bring in the adults after the other kids hero-worshipped him for beating the class bully, Steve."

That sounded like their guy. However, being the guy to avoid responsibilities was not his usual MO.

"I'm worried, May. If he doesn't sign on before production starts, what does he plan to do?"

"You know Peter, he's always got a plan."

MJ remembered with annoyance how Liz thought she was being smooth when talking to Peter inside the bathroom. Unknown to them, MJ heard enough to know that another public outing would be in store for Paris.

"Maybe he doesn't want to continue doing...what we do."

"Don't overthink it, trust Peter. But trust your instinct," urged May.

There was more to what May said. And there was more for her to say, but whatever it was, May said instead,

"And hey! Enjoy yourselves for me."

She hung up the phone, and looked around the luxury suite.

While on the studio's budget, MJ insisted Peter be put in a larger room, in case they needed the space for private meetings or web calls. To make do, they gave MJ a much smaller room, but it didn't matter since she tended to chill in Peter's accommodations anyway. Normally, they'd relax or practice mock interviews.

She pulled her book back into her lap and turned the page. Another chapter couldn't hurt.

* * *

_Reviews are welcomed and encouraged for the progress of this story._


	5. Chapter 5

Peter didn't bother turning the lights on, choosing to continue into his room by the faint glow of the lamplights outside. He folded his specs before placing them on the table next to the door, his habit while traveling so he wouldn't forget them.

He followed the wall toward the bathroom where he slipped in and relieved his bladder of the ache he felt for the past hour. Damn Liz and her fixation of putting on a show. Despite his needs, she managed to convince him to stay out longer than anticipated once the concert ended. Getting from one place to another in a public area always proved to be a hassle, so he decided to wait until they got back to the hotel rather than split their security team.

Tonight, their team had their work cut out for them. From leaving the vans to entering their private area to getting refreshments, Peter already wanted to go back to his hotel room.

"Just a few sets, and I promise I'll to get you back," Liz promised.

Fool that he was, he believed her.

After grabbing their drinks, Peter fell into the habit of letting her lead their interactions: frequent whispering in his ear, moderate slinging of his arm around her waist, and most importantly, the barest of kisses on each other's cheek.

Initially, he admired her confidence and knowledge of how to make the press happy. When he first met her, they spent a lot of time together on location or outside the studios. He couldn't deny that their playful interactions made for good publicity for a film that kick-started their careers.

However, the vultures were relentless and the constant feeling of being followed or watched got old. Unless he was absolutely required, Peter spent most of his days at his apartment, avoiding the public eye and Liz' PR stunts. Liz was harder to manage on tour, but Peter was grateful to have a different woman with more sense managing his time.

Thinking of the few hours of sleep until said woman woke him for their flight, Peter groaned. At that same moment, he thought he heard something other than his own voice. He blamed exhaustion, and turned on the bathroom light, making sure he put toothpaste on his brush rather than straight down the sink.

He heard it again and turned around, feeling his toothbrush going slack in his mouth at the sight that met him.

Curled up with one of his pillows, slept MJ with her hair let loose and her book laying facedown near the edge of the bed. Silently, he walked over to her side and sat just atop the covers. He could see the faint rings underneath her eyes and he hoped she hadn't waited up. He should have put up more of a fight into returning earlier but he never knew what was the right thing to do in that scenario. Having a row with a co-star for the world to see was a negative, basic publicity 101.

He looked down at his publicist and picked up the book she was reading, Of Human Bondage. He smiled, and shelved the title in his memory to ask what she thought. He held the cover and flexed it, the pages bending but not tearing. He wished he was as strong as the book in his hands and the woman sleeping; then maybe he wouldn't be such a push over to the demands of his co-workers or his industry.

He and MJ were light-years away from the earlier days of their careers, but one thing remained the same: whatever they did, they did it on Peter's terms.

Sometimes that came with conflict that, as the actor, Peter tried almost obsessively to avoid, but that's where his friend and manager stepped up to get the job done. MJ joked that she didn't mind looking like the bad guy. Her stunts with the paparazzi and how she handled his interviewers proved she had the gumption. However, the ridiculous idea that representing him came with the stigma of a bad guy bothered Peter, when they could easily be a team.

Maybe when he finally got that notion across to her, she'd be more open to more important things he wanted to say. Things that got harder to say as they got closer to London, but he had a goal so he would stick to the plan. And the next step was Paris.

Emerging from his thoughts, Peter felt MJ roll over and leave the pillow in favor of turning her back to the light. Her shirt rode up her trim stomach and revealed just the swell of her breast. He swallowed out of instinct, feeling the paste in his mouth run thick down his throat. With nimble fingers, he pulled the sheet cover out from under her arm and stretched it over her, tucking it under her chin. He imbedded the picture in his memory. Then, went back to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.


End file.
